Skip to content

Apathy, Chapter 26 Red Tape

The hospital room was overly lit as Albert laid there with a hole in his arm and an understandable disdain for the rat bastards that handcuffed his good arm to the bed. At this time in his life, he could barely rent a car. The vibrations in the operating room were hectic, he could feel the intensity of the doctors. They didn’t care if he lived, but would rather have him die. He was affiliated with a gang that was later translated into the video game state as Grove Street. Albert found himself trying his damndest to think of excuses as to why he had been seen with Shay, let alone shot in the arm when he was with her. The malnourished looking white girl that had a reputation for sucking a cock for the better part of a five dollar bill- this was a lie, but her reputation wasn’t that far off from the truth. So, when a jilted ex of hers found out that she was fraternizing with a lackadaisical gang banger named Albert, well it was a matter of time before the two were punished for being free individuals. Read more…


Apathy, Chapter 25 Return to Normalcy

All it took was John’s phone to ring for him to know that he needed to get down to the radio station.

The mic cracked, and without a musical bed, he yelled, “Holey Moley! I’m Savage Henry and welcome back America! Wow! I can’t believe that after, I don’t even know how long it had been, but damn! Things have gotten pretty nutty in the last remaining time on this Earth. Have you looked up to the sky? That effin’ rock looming upon us, we get it! Just a matter of time, I suppose. Let’s just hope we have all gotten our ducks in a row, because… well because! There’s so much to get to and no way of doing that, so here’s something I know that nobody is sick of, MUSIC!” The Rolling Stones’ Start Me Up started to play as John’s headphones flew off his head. He yelled to his producer, who was still half asleep, “Hey, where’s the fucking news? I’m looking at my prep, and all I got is that nonsense about global warming. This is major, man!”

Erik, the producer, nodded and said, “I’m sorry, we’re barely getting back online right now, I can’t print anything out until-” Read more…

Apathy, Chapter 24 Chips

I didn’t know what felt weirder: my dad in jail or the fact that he remembered Daisy’s home phone line. She looked at me with a saddened look before she decided not to say anything. She struggled to get up and walked away. I’m not sure exactly what that was about, but it made me feel alone. What the hell am I supposed to do? I could feel it from Daisy, she had an opinion, but she was keeping that to herself. I took a minute to myself before I decided to get up and find the old woman.

I asked, “Daisy? Can you drive me to the police station? Daisy?” I looked all over the house, and she was nowhere to be found until I stepped outside. She was sitting in the car, and I knew that she felt the same as me and that this was the right thing to do. The car was already on, and within a few seconds, we were already on our way down.

Daisy slowed the car down for a second and with her wrinkled skinny arms quietly said to herself, “God bless you, Paul.” Then she began to pick up speed. Read more…

Feign Commitment

Started in ’63, the idea that was the epitome.
Rushed through to severity, fell to the nth degree.
Re-established in a gallery, an anti-establishment lean.
Caused feigned rioting, just for the sake of comradery.
We fight the power to be free, to be treated unjustly.
At what point can we see? That our needs run insatiably.

Finally, a reason to take a Selfie.
Just to prove that I did something.


As the seconds begin to disintegrate our narrative dies.
The lies are that we live by our fate,
disagreeing that which our notion relies.
Far be it that we consume nor neglect our tangental existence.
For the sake or lack thereof respect,
the cause of little known resistance.

Smother the thoughts that have forsaken our own well being.
The mind goes down the harshest of roads taken.
Because our own enemy is a thought of a good feeling.
Granting the space and room to exceed, the mind’s positivity droughts.
If only the negativity would recede.
We find ourselves modest in our suicidal thoughts.

The eminence drifts away, and we’re seen for what we are.
Crimes and allegiance say,
“Perfection and integrity come out off par.”
To what degree does that really ever mean anything?
That we could ever be sullied?
Or that our lives could possibly be never-ending?

Nothing is known, and nothing is for naught, but somethings rely on our blind faith.
There are reasons why our bodies can rot,
because of the lies we tell ourselves we scathe.
We drift, and we try to figure out our reasons, but sadly we fail- answers aren’t delivered.
In the end, we’re just a number of cretins.
Just a dirty group of people- disheveled with out reason.

Apathy, Chapter 23 Loaded Gun

Just a few hours before the electricity would return, Marco and Malcolm polished their guns- they laughed about how their (misguided) attempts at creating a new society would be the downfall of the western civilization. The basic ex-punk rocker that never seemed to figure out what the protests were actually about had a vague idea on how to bring about chaos- he was the same basic guy who would pump his fists to a song like Johnny Hit and Run Pauline by X.

“Just listen to me, man. It’s not about what you think it is. Gimme Gimme Gimme by By Black Flag is about how we’re all basically doomed to each other’s selfishness. We gotta do what we have to, I’m a fucking LOADED GUN!”

Marco nodded his head and knew that he was talking bullshit, the song is just an old song that doesn’t really mean to mean anything. After years of listening to protesters from the seventies and eighties gave way to Malcolm’s beliefs and his misguided understanding of what his problems are, which were well beyond obsolete. Read more…

Early Thirties

Sitting in an unshaded bar with a new found reason to breathe.
It isn’t that it’s not what it is- but more like it’s far beyond my reasoning.
The sun beats down, and I’m feeling alive,
but for how long is that to ring true?
A mass that needs to get cut out of my body… one so that I can-
Walk down to the next bar.
Looking for the next smooth feeling of comfort.
A glance, a look of acknowledgment.
No failure, I exist alone in this reality.
Onto the next bar.
Feigning my way through human interactions.
Violent images persuade my self-indulgence.
But I persist, I allow little to no…

Reason for meaning.